


Epidote

by indefensibleselfindulgence



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Character Study, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23845948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indefensibleselfindulgence/pseuds/indefensibleselfindulgence
Summary: Their first meeting.
Relationships: Apophis & Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34
Collections: Rusty Quill Gaming Exchange 2020





	Epidote

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ExLibrisCraux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExLibrisCraux/gifts).



> hope you enjoy

The thing about Oscar Wilde, generally, as a person, is that he had to look calm. 

He did not, in fact, have to be calm internally, that has never been a concern for him, but outward appearances were the only thing that truly mattered in the world. Which is why, when he met Apothis for the first time, he was quite upset with himself for just how disheveled he looked. 

Sure, compared to any normal man off the street, he looked like a painting, a statue, an undeniable work of art- but Oscar knew, his hair wasn't perfect, his nails weren't perfect, and his clothes were not absolutely perfect. And here he was, in front of a Meritocrat. 

In front of a dragon. 

Apophis is a wall of flame, and Oscar feels the heat before he even lifts his head up. 

“I've heard good things.” The voice rocks the entire cavern in a way that's almost painful. “You can raise.” And he does, hands behind him, back as straight as can be. “Have you met the others yet- I suppose you must have.” 

“Only Guivres.” Is his voice shaking- it better not be- “She was-” His brain goes empty, ever compliment all of a sudden fizzling out at the thought of somehow offended the literal dragon in front of him, because he just can't get over that. “Well.” 

There's something of a smirk, but it's too close to his eyes and hurts to look at all the same.

“That's always good to hear.” The room is still, and quiet for a few moments. Oscar thinks he must be sweating through his clothes. “Come closer.” 

The protest dies on his lips, the thought that he would get burned if even a centimeter closer vanishes into thin air because there's a man now, instead of all of the- all of the that. He takes his steps forward, and stops. The eyes, golden, like two twin suns, still hurt to look at, and the heat still twists off of the man, but- 

Well. 

_Well._

“You're young, yes? It's gets harder and harder to tell.” 

“Youngish.” Usually, he'd protest, but it's all about the present company. “Maybe some twenty younger than-” And he waves a hand. 

“Maybe just so.” There's a smile- he's being to cavalier but once he starts, it's hard to pump the breaks. And Apophis is- _well._ At least this version of him is- “You still have quiet the tour left. Send my regards to the others. Work hard.” 

Oscar bows his head. 

“Of course sir.” 

“I hope your career goes well. Well enough that we will not have to see each other too frequently.” 

“Or perhaps well enough that we could.” 

There are footsteps, and the heat rises, before a clawed hand taps at his chin, lifting his head up until he has no choice but to look into those golden eyes. It might scar- burn- he thinks for a second somewhere in the back of his mind. His eyes are watering. Oscar is not a devout man but something about being this close to a Meritocrat- so different from his brief conversation with Guivres- that feels a little divine. 

Or he's getting heat stroke. 

One or the other. 

“Perhaps.” The voice echos so thoroughly it feels like his very bones are ringing. Something falls into his coat pocket and Apophis steps away. “My favor.” 

Oscar blinks the tears out of his eyes and looks down at a small stone- 

“Should make arranging appointments easier.” His own voice feels so quiet in comparison. 

“At the very least.” When he looks up, Apophis is in his full massive glory again, turning in the cavernous room. 

Oscar leaves as he hears wings beat down, fast enough to miss seeing it but not fast enough to feel the rush of air lick at his back. 

He could only imagine what his hair looked like now. 


End file.
